Author Note: there was a bit of a mix up with chapters 22 and 23, but they are posted in their correct order now. Please give 22 a look again as it had not actually been published previously.
Despite her injuries, Christine was making great strides in her voice once again. Perhaps it shouldn't have been surprising—all she had was her singing. She was still too weak to get a job anywhere. Her voice was her only hope of rising out of poverty, and she knew it. Erik could tell she was highly dedicated to her practice times, judging by how she progressed in leaps and bounds. He was proud of her, all things considered. He was just glad he had something else going on in his life that he didn't have to think of her as often, too.
Christine and Meg shared a bedroom—a small little thing with two cots and images from magazines pasted to the wall for decoration. When Meg and her mother were at home during Christine's lessons, Christine and Erik holed away in this bedroom for some measure of privacy. Most of the time this was not necessary—Meg and Madame Giry both worked long hours at the opera house, so Christine was often alone for her lessons.
She was often alone most of the time.
She spent countless long days by herself, not well enough to work but bored by sitting in bed. She took to trying to make up for the burden of living with her friend—she knew, of course, that Erik was paying the Girys, but she felt like she was imposing even still. In return, she had agreed to take on as much of the housework as she was able.
She kept the tiny flat as clean as possible and almost took pride in how the place looked when Erik came over—it might not be the luxury of his own house, not anywhere near it, but it was clean and in good order and because of her. She liked to think that Erik had noticed—he often cast glances here and there at the decor, but he never mentioned anything he saw there. Perhaps he was merely too polite to remark on the humble little abode she occupied now.
She took to cooking the meals for the Girys, slowly growing proud of her culinary skills after much practice, pleased to be able to provide her friends with something good to eat as soon as they arrived home from long, hard days at work. It made her heart feel warm to hear compliments on what she'd cooked, and she didn't think they were just being polite, either. As her strength returned, she was able to accompany Madame Giry to the market, learning to pick the freshest fishes and the ripest produce. She found two cookbooks on the shelves in Madame's kitchen, and she made an effort to read—and cook—through both books in their entirety.
As much as she began to enjoy and find purpose in her more domestic endeavors, she was relieved to be getting back to training for her career on the stage. Her chores quickly finished for the day, she would spend the rest of her time practicing whatever exercise Erik had assigned for her to do.
Erik. She thought of him wistfully.
Moving out of his house had been the best thing to happen to her. Meg was right—her feelings were just a crush, and she had needed space to see that. Falling for Erik her caretaker had been a reaction to not having anyone else in the world. He was still very dear to her in his own way, but the feelings she felt for him were surely not love.
Erik as a man had many flaws—as any man did, she was certain. Living with him, even when she had thought she'd loved him for taking care of her, had oftentimes been awkward. She was under no false impression that she was any easier to live with, certainly, but this? This was much better. Erik the tutor had all the best parts of him and none of the… less pleasant aspects. Perhaps he was a little strict at times, but they each knew what was expected of them and they fulfilled their roles beautifully. He was an excellent teacher, and she was trying hard to be a student he could be proud of.
She missed him when he wasn't there, but missing him was surely better than feeling awkward around him. If she had to get up during the night to drink a glass of water, she had no worry about him seeing her in her nightgown. She could sing whatever silly songs she wanted for warmups and not have to worry about hearing him sigh loudly in protest. And she always missed him just the right amount that she was happy to see him again when their next lesson came around, able to greet him with an eager smile, no longer annoyed by whatever little corrections he'd given her last he'd seen her.
There were times when she wished he'd stay just a while longer, of course—for a cup of tea or a meal or just to chat. She asked him, sometimes, but he always got a guarded look in his eyes as he refused, citing the time or some prior obligation. She lay awake in bed thinking of it, sometimes. Was he truly so busy? Was he having to work extra hours to continue to pay for her and all her myriad needs? If he wasn't so busy, would he stay to drink tea with her? Why did she even want to drink tea with him anyway?
He did stay one day, much to her surprise. But he didn't want to talk about any personal matters or even any other subject.
"Have you considered approaching the managers about a position in the company again?" He asked at the end of her lesson, still sitting in the only chair in the apartment that had any padding on it.
Her face lit up.
"You think I'm ready?"
"As ready as you can be, now. We'll still work on things, of course, but I think you can return to the stage… If they'll have you."
She had nodded curtly, too excited to say much else. He took his leave shortly after, and she made mental plans of when she would go and ask for her old job back.
She had no doubt he would have come to the audition with her if she had asked, but she'd refrained. He was friends with the managers, she knew, and she didn't want his presence to feel like he was asking a favor from a friend. She wanted to earn that role—and she had.
Christine couldn't hold back her smile when she met Erik outside the opera house. He looked almost as nervous as she had felt.
"You got it?" Erik breathed.
She nodded happily.
"More than got it—I was offered understudy to the leading lady!"
He made a noise halfway between a sigh of relief and laugh of joy, running a hand through his hair.
"Congratulations, Christine!" He said warmly. "You've worked so hard for this."
"Thank you," she said, beaming under his compliments.
"Come to my place for lunch?" He asked awkwardly. "I have a wine I was saving for just this occasion. We can discuss your future career goals."
Her heart skipped a beat.
"Of course!"
He hailed a cab to take them to his home, and they made small talk on the way there. He looked out the window as much as he could—her smile was just too beautiful.
Christine stole glances at him while she tried to pretend she wasn't, but luckily for her he didn't seem to notice.
They quieted a little as they pulled up in front of his home, Christine becoming a little wistful. She hadn't been here since she'd moved out. She didn't miss it, exactly, but it had been such a big part of her life for nearly two years, and now she was here again.
